Back Out of Hell by Cardinal Robbins
by Cardinal Robbins
Summary: She sighed, a long ragged breath that told me she’d been fighting hard with her demons. I spilled my guts about my days in Balto, when a cop named Crosetti took a pharmacy full of antidepressants and antianxiety drugs and took a fatal swim. SVU AU


Back Out of Hell

By Cardinal Robbins

Author's Note: This is a sequel to "The Day After Hell," and all L&O: SVU characters belong to Wolf. I've only borrowed them for the purposes of fanfic. Hope you enjoy.

I entered her apartment and carefully locked the door behind me, every deadbolt and slide-bolt she had. Taking a deep breath, for once it didn't seem so much like a second home to me, but rather a place that could so easily have been yellow-taped by homicide. The sound system needed to be turned on, as well as a couple of lights. Filled with sound and light, there was still an ominous feel to her empty place. Hesitating, I walked into her bedroom.

There they are, I thought, all laid out like dolls on a child's bed. But Zelman was no child and what was laid out before me made my blood run cold. A Walther PPK, a twenty-two caliber she usually carried in her purse, and a thirty-eight caliber Glock. Ammo was laid out next to each one. She'd been trying to decide which to use, what to do, what would happen after the fact. Not even a note.

And when did she illegally buy or make a silencer for her first Glock? The thought of her scoring a silencer made me sick to my stomach, but she had been FBI and who knows? Maybe she'd got it through the Bureau. My gut lurched at that point. No, my mind yelled at its highest volume, you aren't seeing this – you aren't seeing the evidence that someone you love so much was planning to take herself away from you. No, no, no!

But there it was, all laid out in her obsessive-compulsive manner. Better to see the guns this way than to see the aftermath. I went into the master bath and splashed water on my face, to try and ward off the dry heaves. The scent of her lavender soap was heavy in the air. I thought about how many times she told me she loved me, which was undeniable, as was the fact she didn't call me before she spread everything out.

She would rather face down death alone, instead of letting me in. The pain of realization physically hurt me, like the jolt of electricity that wouldn't let go. The memory of the static pain flowed like an endless circuit through me. Why hadn't she called me? She had said it was because of my father's suicide, but I immediately thought it was a bullshit excuse.

She wasn't a drama queen; it wasn't that she wanted the theatrics of a death scene. No, it was worse – she went into her head, where I couldn't follow. Back into that twisted mass of concrete and steel I'd saved her from, where she lost her friends and couldn't cope without Huang's help. But she hadn't called him, either. Hell, maybe she thought he'd put her in for a 72-hour detention, but she should have realized he'd only have done that as a last resort. I stared down at her bed again. This was her last resort.

My spare briefcase was large enough to get her guns safely stowed for the walk to my place. Before I gathered them up, I pulled on my leather gloves. Why? I asked myself. Habit. That was the answer. Or was it something deeper? Not wanting my prints on something which would come back to haunt me later? I shoved the thoughts out of my mind as I made sure my briefcase was locked, as well as her apartment door.

Charlie, her doorman, nodded to me again on my way out. He's a great guy, her doorman. He had no idea she'd worked for the FBI as long as she did. Yes, Sarah Zelman, you are as much an enigma as I am. But someday, I shall crack your code and understand you and the pain you feel. Then perhaps I'll have a shred of insight into the man who fathered me, but couldn't face life with my smart-ass perspective like an anchor around his neck.

Perspective. Now there's a word. Makes me think about what Sarah and my late father have in common – a brain that doesn't make the proper chemicals in the right amounts, a cynical outlook with sarcasm at the forefront. Medicine and psychiatry have progressed, but my father wouldn't have sought help. Sarah has more faith in God than he did, which is why she doesn't want to piss Him off. I haven't been to shul to pray in years, but I don't want to irritate Him, either, because He helped Sarah put down the gun. Yes, to put it down, because I'd bet my Baltimore pension they'd find DNA on the barrel of her Glock if it were tested. The thought of GSR on her beautiful lips was almost enough to shove me to my knees.

It was a nice day to be outside…sunny, almost warmer than it should have been for the season. Such a bright day, I was glad my glasses turned dark to hide the hurt in my eyes. She hadn't told me. The realization kept biting at me like a piranha. As close as we are and she hadn't told me. Or anyone else? She wouldn't have called her ex-boyfriend, I knew. He'd run at the first signs of her PTSD, she'd mentioned. He hadn't been strong enough to love her for the long-term, but did she perceive some weakness in me? No one knew for sure what she was thinking, and she probably didn't know herself – she simply wanted the emotional pain to stop.

I got to my place and made a little chit-chat with my doorman. He's like Charlie, a good, decent guy who loves his job. I went up to my place and opened the door, aching because Sarah wasn't there. She was with Don, safe for the first time in how long? He'd get something into her stomach and watch her with those sad eyes of his, coaching what he could from her before she met with Huang. She'd drink coffee, play with the mug's handle and maybe have a slice of apple pie or a couple scrambled eggs. While they sparred; Cragen trying to get answers and her dodging as much as she could get away with.

My hands shook ever so slightly as I opened my gun safe and stowed her firearms. Then, I changed the combination to something deep in my childhood, a few years before her time. Relief flooded over me; my headache started to ease up as well. I sighed, then put the briefcase back into the closet. Time to go down and see if there was a uni who would give me a lift back to the Precinct.

By the time I got back to work, Don was back at his desk and Sarah was…not. He saw me and came into the bullpen. "She's in an interrogation room with Dr. Huang," he explained.

"Why an interrogation room and not an office?" I asked, concerned that the connotations of being questioned in an interrogation room would make things worse, not better.

"Privacy, John. I offered them my office, but she declined," he said. "No one can hear them in a room, unless someone's on the other side of the glass and has the speaker on. I promised her complete privacy, so she won't have to wonder if anyone's on the other side of the mirror."

"I'll get back to paperwork, before I get tempted." He knew I wanted to go back and slide into the watch-room, to see her, to hit the speaker and share her pain.

"You do that. Try not to think about all this for a while."

"How long have they been in session?" I wondered if she'd told him yet.

"Not long…maybe ten minutes." Cragen's look spoke volumes; he knew I'd have a long, hard wait until she emerged. "Huang knows he can call you in, if he chooses to do so."

"Always," I said, needing a cup of tea, brewed stronger than usual.

The longest hour and a half of my life later, Dr. Huang came out first, followed by Zelman. Her eyes were red and she took off her Transitions glasses and held them to the window, to darken them. Then she put her glasses back on. I could tell she wanted the dark lenses to hide her eyes.

The good doctor looked at me and nodded his head toward the interrogation rooms. I stood and Sarah looked up, a worried expression on her face. She forced a small smile when I placed my hand on her arm for a moment. We were under public scrutiny, but I hoped that gesture would give her a measure of reassurance.

I closed the door behind Huang and we sat down. "Was it anything I did?" It was paramount to me, discovering what had caused all of this. "She didn't call me."

He was more tired than I'd seen him in months, but you couldn't tell it from his voice. "No, John, it wasn't anything you did. And she didn't call you because when it gets so bad, she goes blank."

"'Blank'? Like how?" My mind craved to get a grasp of how Sarah's reasoning worked…or didn't. "What do you mean 'blank'?"

"It's only her and her emotional pain. She blocks everything else out," he explained. "You could have been in the same room with her at the point she was laying out her ordnance, and still you wouldn't have existed to her at that moment. All she knows when she's having a bipolar depressive breakdown is pain. More of it than her brain can handle. She absolutely, totally cracks." He sounded amazed, even though he was well-familiar with how it shook out most of the time.

"She give you the run-down on what she does remember?" I leaned back in the chair and stretched out.

"Our first ten minutes were spent in silence," he said softly. "I asked her what was wrong and she broke, the tears flowed freely and she admitted what she'd done. She said she didn't know why, which was what frightened her the most." He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand for a moment. "She disassociated and it scares her when that happens. She no longer has full control."

"For a control freak, that's Hell." We were both control freaks, as my alphabetized CD racks at home and my unique filing system at work would attest. "What did you do? Anything I should be aware of, watch for, check on?"

"We talked for a long time and I'm working with her to try and recognize when she's starting to hit the depths. She's short-cycle, so it's harder. Thus far, she only realizes when she's manic," he said. "She mentioned snapping at people more, not feeling happy despite being content with her job… She's very happy with her personal life," he added, which made me feel a lot better. "But she only recognizes it as mania at the moment."

"I changed her medication dosages," he warned me, "so she may seem a bit sleepy during the day and she'll fall asleep faster at night. The daytime won't be an issue for long, it's just something to be aware of."

"Should I talk with Cragen about that or will you?"

"As her doctor, it should come from me. I'll talk with him when we're finished." He tilted his head and looked at me, which made me wonder what he was thinking. "Take her home with you, John. Keep an eye on her, surreptitiously, so she doesn't feel like you're babysitting her. She doesn't need a 72, but she does need compassion and understanding – you've always given her all that and more."

"Is she still in danger of doing herself harm?" I watched his face carefully for any clues and he was a stone, aware he was being observed by a fellow cop. "If she is, I have to know."

"Subconsciously, she could, but I think the medication change will ensure she's out of danger in the next 24 to 48 hours," he admitted. "She joked about not getting near the cutlery, and when I pressed the issue she assured me she had no intention of misusing anything sharp. At least consciously."

"I appreciate your candor, Doctor. She'll be staying with me until you clear her for firearm use again." I would figure out a way to watch her like a hawk. Huang and I finished up and he left to talk with Cragen, while I returned to my desk.

She looked up. "Life's better now. I'm okay." Such a soft voice. Seductive. My chin dropped and my eyes gazed at her through the top of my dark glasses.

I pulled a file and came over to her side of the desk, to make it appear as if we were both reviewing the same case. Leaning in close, I whispered, "You're coming home with me, until you're cleared. Right?"

She looked down at the file and nodded. "Right. There's enough of my stuff at your place, I won't have to drag you back to mine first. I do need to turn on some lights and make it look lived in, though."

"I turned on a couple lights and the sound system, before I left," Habit. Something we did for each other on a regular basis, depending upon where we'd spend the night.

"Thanks," she whispered. "For everything."

"Whenever, wherever," I replied, our special code for 'I'm always there when you need me,' which she had been for me as often as I had for her. She smiled slightly when I raised my brows a bit and took back the file.

Cap gave me a company car and after our shift was over, Sarah and I went back to my place. She looked in my refrigerator and cringed. "John." The bad-cop tone. Busted. Hadn't been to the store in almost a week and had the Chinese take-out containers to prove it.

"Hey," I said feeling a little brighter now that she was with me, "You want to go out? Maybe grab a slice and go for a walk in the park?"

"You make that sound so tempting…" She grinned and said yes, her hand going instinctively to her side as she winced. "Sorry. You're packing tonight." Habit. Having protection an arm's length away. Gone like the Emperor's new clothes. She took it better than I thought, and we were out the door and outside into the evening air.

After a slice of mushroom pizza and a Sprite, we were strolling through the park, our badges concealed as we held hands. "I've missed this," she said. "Being able to walk in the park, without having to look for a vic or perps."

"No cop-talk tonight," I reminded her. "You broke the rule this time." She dutifully took a five-dollar bill from her purse and handed it to me. She didn't know I'd use it to buy her lunch tomorrow.

"My bad. I'm paid in full," she said, laughing.

I've always loved the sound of her laughter, which is often reserved for my rants on whatever's gotten under my skin that day, like the people we deal with. Or maybe politics, or the color of the sky, or how Fin lives on onion burgers and sliders. Anything and everything, and she lets me rant until I'm intellectually spent. She looks at me when I'm off and running and smiles, later she laughs. It's her way of letting me know the world will still spin, no matter how crazy it becomes in the process. Unconditional love and acceptance.

"No, you're not paid in full," I remind her. "Not even close."

"Oh, yeah…the most important part of the deal," she said, her lips suddenly against mine in a long kiss.

"Better, definitely better," I said and kissed her again.

Later that night, our lovemaking had a certain tentative quality to it; I held her even more, so closely and tonight she had fallen asleep in my arms, which delighted me no end. In the quiet darkness, I watched her sleep until drowsiness had overtaken me. I had to admit her new drug regimen had worked.

I could relax again…for now.

To watch her like a hawk was harder than anything I'd anticipated. One night, she had picked up a long, serrated knife to cut slices of London broil and I couldn't take my gaze off her, I'd been so concerned she'd subconsciously do herself harm. It was only after she threatened to return to her place that I tried to ease up but, despite my attempts at discretion, she knew I was still…wondering.

Three days later, I left her at my door with a kiss. She had an early session with Dr. Huang and she was eagerly anticipating seeing him again. The meds had worked their magic and she would be in later, to give Cragen an update and keep up Fin's paperwork as well as her own, from developing cases. I was due in court, to testify in a rape and subsequent torture case, which I knew would take until around lunchtime at the least.

"Brought a note from my favorite doc, Cap," Sarah Zelman said brightly. "Can I have my sidearm back, please?" She studied his face carefully as he read Dr. Huang's flowing script on his official stationery.

"Gee, I can tell you didn't forge this, so yes," he agreed, "you can have your ordnance back." He turned to his safe, made sure he blocked any sight of his hands and the combination and removed her Glock – still holstered on her belt. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm sure," she replied, with the authority in her voice he'd come to depend upon. "He upped my meds and I'm good for now. If anything changes," she offered before he could ask, "you'll be the first to know about it."

"Good. I'm happy to hear it." He gave her the gun belt and she put it on, a smile on her face. "Feeling a little less naked?"

"Yes, indeed. Thanks." She held out her hand and he shook it. "And thanks for being there for me when I needed you," she said simply.

"Anytime. It's why I'm here." Cragen replied, glad to have her back. "I think someone's missed you…" He winked.

"I'll plead the Fifth on that," she said with grin. "Fin still on vacation?"

"Another couple of days at least. He called and was wondering if he could have a few more days." Cragen looked hopeful, remembering how good Tutuola sounded when he checked in with his captain.

"Give him the time," Sarah urged. "If he's making progress, he should have the days."

"Now that you're back, he can." Cragen gave her a nod as she walked out the door to his office. "Now go see your partner, before he storms my office and wonders what's going on."

"You got it. Thanks again."

"Be nice to me and I might even let you drive."

"You always let me – " I said absently, then suddenly my head snapped up at the sound of her voice. "Sarah?" I stared at her a long moment, having left her at my door before leaving for court this morning. Hadn't expected she'd grabbed a ride with a uniformed officer to the Precinct.

"What? I wasn't gone that long… You've forgotten me already?" she teased. "I'm starting to worry about you, John." She laughed and I reveled in the sound of it.

"No – I just – " I stammered, flustered at suddenly having her back at work in front of me, complete once more. "You okay?" I looked down and saw she was wearing her gun belt, the Glock in its holster. She saw my brows arched above my glasses. I dropped my voice almost to a whisper. "You were cleared by Dr. Huang?" Curiosity was killing me…slowly.

"I'm good," she told me firmly, "and George cleared me after I responded well to him tweaking my pills. You saw the changes yourself," she whispered. Only Cragen had known where she was, when she wasn't at work or with Huang.

I leaned back in my chair and gave her 'the look,' where she knew she was being subjected to my personal lie detector test. She stood her ground and took the intensity of my stare. After a long moment I pursed my lips and said, "Good. Glad to have you back." She'd passed. I knew I could count on her having my back as a partner, without hesitation.

Cragen stepped out of his office. "Who's catching?" he yelled.

"We are," Sarah and I yelled back, in unison. We looked at each other and smiled.


End file.
